


The Perks of Being a Coffee Shop Employee

by Madlyie



Series: The Life and Times of a Sullen Coffee Shop Employee [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Did I Mention Fluff, F/M, Jehan is a perfect beautiful flower that could probably kill you in two seconds, M/M, Montparnasse & The Feels, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madlyie/pseuds/Madlyie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as Montparnasse likes to complain about being surrounded by a seeming abundance of disgustingly cute couples, it's a lot more easy to deal with other people's feelings than one's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perks of Being a Coffee Shop Employee

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. I actually wrote this. Because I have slowly risen into what it Jehanparnasse heaven which is just. Beautiful. It's my first time really writing those two so I hope it worked out. Enjoy! ♥

 

 

***

 

No matter how frequently as well as firmly Montparnasse considers his co-workers the bane of his existence, he has to admit that they do work well together. Courfeyrac is all smiles and friendliness, Grantaire is sarcastic comments and doodles on paper cups and Montparnasse, well. Montparnasse does make a damn good coffee.

So if he had to be honest - which is not a thing he does comparatively often - he would have to admit that he actually _likes_ the way things are. They’re _good_. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, naturally. Of course not because he’s not going to go and change something about the well-crafted balance they have going on. No one in their right mind would do that.

Problem is that Montparnasse is surrounded by way too many people who are exactly that. Right out of their goddamn mind.

 

Which is why he stops dead in his tracks when he opens the door to the coffee shop five minutes before his morning shift on Monday starts and his eyes fall on the counter.

“Surprise, motherfucker!” Bahorel shouts and Courfeyrac grins widely when Montparnasse opens the door to the coffee shop five minutes before the start of his Monday morning shift.

 

And alright.

He might have kind of stopped breathing there for a second because he is too distracted by Jehan who stands behind the counter with an apron tied over an atrocity of a poncho and a good-natured smile at Bahorel’s enthusiasm and Courfeyrac’s Will Smith pose.

Right.

 

He clears his throat. “What is going on here?”

He doesn’t know who exactly he’s asking, maybe the universe, but Bahorel seems to feel addressed as well. “Well,” he starts, “For whatever reason a whole lot more people seem to come here, I think I heard someone saying it’s hilarious, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. I personally think it’s the mini muffins.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I was thinking we could use a new employee because it’s getting too fucking busy around here.”

“What happened to your old job?” Montparnasse directs the question at Jehan as he slowly walks closer, still not exactly sure what he is supposed to be doing. Act normal, probably a good idea. Totally cool.

Jehan worries their lower lip between their teeth for a moment. “Which one?”

It takes a second before Montparnasse remembers what he was talking about. “The weird one. The bookshop. With the old guy.”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“... yeah.”

Jehan smiles and shrugs a little. “He died.”

From the corner of his eye Montparnasse sees Courfeyrac frown. Bahorel makes a silent ‘I don’t even know’-gesture. Grantaire sits on the floor and doesn’t seem to be yet in the state of mind that makes him an active participant in the conversation.

“Okay,” Montparnasse says.

“But,” Jehan continues, “He let me keep the keys before they clean the place out which was nice of him but well, I still needed a new job because I don’t think you can legally work for a ghost.”

“Ghost?” Combeferre pipes up from where he is already sitting at the counter with his newspaper opened. The other hand is firmly linked with Courfeyrac’s like they’re glued together.

Jehan nods enthusiastically which makes their curls bounce. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I heard something when I went back to pick up that gorgeous skull of his deceased pet deer Joey. I think he sounded happy. Quinn. Not the deer.”

Maybe Montparnasse should be more surprised to hear all of these words together in one sentence but really, he isn’t.

Combeferre frowns. “Interesting.”

Montparnasse sighs heavily. “We’re not even open yet.”

“My coffee shop, my rules,” Bahorel chimes in with a grin that Montparnasse would have been afraid might tear his face in half if he cared.

“Not your coffee shop.”

“Or _is_ it?”

“ _‘And’_ ,” Jehan starts, “ _‘An astronomer said, "Master, what of Time?" And he answered: You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable_ ’.”

Everyone is quiet.

Jehan looks around and, when no one says anything, shrugs again. “Khalil Gibran.” Then they unperturbed start adjusting a batch of mini muffins on a plate.  

Montparnasse feels like he forgot something.

 

Oh.

 

Right.

 

Breathing, again.

 

 

***

 

 

Jehan writes poems on the paper cups. Whenever Grantaire is too busy with Enjolras who is sipping his coffee with a double-shot espresso at the counter, Montparnasse isn’t handed a cup with some sort of doodle on it but with Jehan’s elegant, cursive handwriting. Haikus or limericks, sometimes with the name of the poet added at the bottom, sometimes not.

Montparnasse catches himself looking for the ones without more often. They’re about flowers and life and nighttimes and beauty.

He runs a finger across the writing carefully to check that it doesn’t smudge.

“Are you for real?!”

Montparnasse flinches before he realizes that Grantaire is not talking to him but Enjolras who has his arms crossed in front of his chest like a petulant five-year-old.

He kind of missed the first part of the conversation but the comparison is justified most of the times.

“What?” Enjolras snaps back and Grantaire rolls his eyes. Montparnasse has to admit it’s quite impressive.

“You’re not going to call the cat Patria.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Alright, very convincing.”

“Believe me, I have a whole list of arguments, I just thought I’d better not start or we’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“Fine, so what do _you_ suggest?”

Nothing that could be good, Montparnasse thinks at Grantaire’s lopsided grin. “Well, I was thinking we could make a compromise. What about -”

Montparnasse cuts him off. “If you say ‘Purrtria’ I promise you I will personally make sure you are not going to be able to say another word for every single last day of your life.”

Jehan quickly hides their face behind a coffee cup but Montparnasse still catches the smile on their face.

Grantaire glares at him for a moment but then decides to only shrug because he’s a little shit that knows how to be even more obnoxious than usually. “ _I_ didn’t say it.”

Before Montparnasse can do anything he might regret later that is in any way related to one of the three knives he carries on his body, Jehan chimes in. “So, who’s getting a cat?”

Enjolras has watched the proceedings behind the counter with a look of long-suffering agony.

“Well,” he says on a sigh but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he takes Grantaire’s hand over the counter. “ _We_ are.”

Montparnasse snorts.  

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Before Montparnasse can answer Jehan laughs quietly sweetly and shakes their head. “Oh, I’m sure what Parnasse is trying to say is that he considers your beautiful relationship slightly… re _purr_ gnant.”

 

Montparnasse blinks. Blinks again.

 

Then he huffs, shakes his head and turns back to the coffee machine.

“Wait a fucking second,” Grantaire says. “I get a death threat and all Jehan get’s is a _‘hmpf’_?”

Montparnasse doesn’t dignify that with an answer mostly because he has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.

 

 

***

 

 

Cosette is waiting patiently for the refill of her caramel latte while Marius sits at a table further at the back of the coffee shop next to Gavroche, and looks vaguely terrified by a twelve-year-old. Montparnasse can’t even make fun of that because let’s be real, they’ve all been there.

But since it’s not in the realm of possibility to _not_ make fun of Marius as one of the daily pleasures he indulges, Montparnasse settles for the next best thing.

“Quick question,” he starts and Cosette raises an eyebrow. “Do you actually _realize_ how dreadful that jacket is your boyfriend is wearing or is all of the rose you see through your glasses too distracting?”

Cosette’s eyebrow stays in place but her smile turns distinctly more amused. “Oh, I do realize. And I think it’s adorable.”

“You think that thing is adorable?”

“Not that. _He_ is. Besides, don’t _you_ think that question is a tiny bit hypocritical?”

And well, that’s probably karma getting back at him right there. At least it didn’t wait that long this time around.

Montparnasse shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Cosette says and obviously karma is having nothing better to than to bother him this day because that’s when the door opens.

Jehan steps inside with a yellow and purple scarf tied around their head that clashes with the red of their hair, and what seems to be the newest addition to the seemingly endless collection of ponchos. It’s mustard yellow.

Montparnasse wants to die a little.

“Hello everyone,” Jehan chirps, hugs Cosette swiftly before walking around the counter and dropping a quick kiss on Montparnasse’s cheek.

Yeah, dying seems like a pretty good idea.

Jehan walks past him and opens the door to the kitchen. “Hey Bahorel.”

 

For a second there’s only silence.

 

Then a horrified gasp. “Oh my fucking god Jehan, what the fuck even _is_ that?!”

Cosette chuckles quietly and takes her latte. “Pot,” she says and then before turning around to head back to Marius points at Montparnasse with a triumphant grin and silently mouths, ‘Kettle.’

He pretends to ignore her as well as the way his cheeks suddenly feel a lot warmer than before.

 

 

***

 

 

Montparnasse can handle it.

 

Really, he can. It’s absolutely okay. He can handle it because it’s not like Jehan hasn’t smiled at him before or always kisses his cheek in greeting, it’s normal because that’s what Jehan _does,_ it’s totally fine.

The point is simply that Montparnasse isn’t used to it. He’s used to it _sometimes_ because then there’s a long enough time period in between for you know, calming thoughts and denial, the usual.

So yeah, he’s going to need some time to get used to being around Jehan’s smile for a whole day, every day, in broad daylight because the sun makes their red hair shine slightly golden, and he can _handle_ it.

“Hey Bahorel?” Jehan calls through the kitchen door and Bahorel pokes his head outside. There’s a little bit of flour in his hair. It matches the white dots on his dark blue button-up that make his shoulders look even broader. Montparnasse sighs.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Is it okay if I leave a bit earlier today?”

“Sure thing, if Parnasse can handle the last half an hour without you.”

“Thank you,” Jehan smiles and turns to Montparnasse who realizes with a few seconds delay that he is supposed to say something. It’s not his fault. Breathing should be a natural process; he doesn’t understand why it has to be so fucking difficult sometimes.

“Sure, don’t worry,” he gets out and Jehan’s smile is gentle and beautiful and…. Well. It’s kind of a problem finding comparisons when he’s focused on staring.

Bahorel disappears back into the kitchen with a cough that sounds mysteriously like a laugh.

Montparnasse glares at the spot where his head was but it’s surprisingly dissatisfying.

A little later Jehan unties their apron and says goodbye to Bahorel in the kitchen.

Montparnasse mentally prepares himself for a quick hug and kiss on the cheek because he can totally handle it and it’s totally fine.

Jehan steps up on their tiptoes and places a gentle finger under Montparnasse’s chin turning his head so that the Jehan’s lips land perfectly soft right next to the corner of his mouth.

The world stops for a second.

Two seconds.

Jehan steps back with a smile. They tip their finger once against Montparnasse’s chin.

“Bye.”

It’s more of a reflex than anything else when Montparnasse nods.

Jehan’s mouth quirks as if they’re trying to suppress a grin and then they unhurriedly saunter out of the door.

When the door falls shut Montparnasse walks over and turns the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’. Then he walks back, walks into the kitchen, closes the door behind him.

 

“I CAN’T FUCKING HANDLE IT.”

 

Bahorel looks up and frowns. “Alright, you don’t have to scream. We can close up early, no biggie.”

“No,” Montparnasse grits out. “I. Can’t. Handle. _It._ ”

Bahorel blinks. “Are… are you okay, man?”

“Okay,” he repeats incredulously. “Okay?! No, I’m fucking not okay! And it’s your fucking fault!”

“Huh?” At that point Bahorel only looks confused. It’s a very Marius-look and Montparnasse doesn’t even have time to make fun of it because he’s too busy trying not to hyperventilate and laugh hysterically.

“Everything was great, okay?! It was perfectly fine! Like… like we were a perfect, functioning fucking ecosystem, right? But then, then _you_ come along and were like, you know what? Fuck it. Why not change that up a little, am I right? No. No, you’re not! Because you know what change does? It destroys the fucking ecosystem! We had like, a balance, okay? And balance is fragile, you know that?! Like you can’t just put - just put a beautiful fish in the same tank with a fucking shark! Because, because the shark is supposed to eat the fish but guess what, it can’t! Because the fish is beautiful and, and lovely and apart from that it could probably kick the shark’s ass! So no, the shark’s not going to eat the fish because it’s just too fucking good for him. And you know what that means? Right, the shark is going to fucking die. You want that?! You want the shark to die? Because you could have just told the fucking shark so because then it would have gone and gotten himself a new job!”

 

Montparnasse breathes out.

 

Bahorel stares at him.

He stares back.

“Dude,” the other man starts. Then stops and shakes his head.

“What?” Montparnasse spats. “It’s a metaphor!”

“Well, it’s a shitty metaphor,” Bahorel shrugs. “Are you high?”

“ _What?!_ No!”

Bahorel hums thoughtfully. He looks at Montparnasse and seems to come to a decision. “You want to be?”

Montparnasse stares at him.

He stares back.

 

And well. It’s not like Montparnasse has a better idea.

 

 

***

 

 

Feuilly finds the two of them a couple of hours later on the kitchen floor.

Montparnasse is counting the dots on Bahorel’s shirt while Bahorel mumbles, “Like, sharks are not even that bad, dude, they’re like super nice and don’t want to hurt like anyone. Like they’re just a bit scary looking but so fucking what, right, I mean like, I’d be more scared if I had to swim in an ocean with like, Donald Trump, right? I mean, that would be a fucking nightmare, they should do a horror movie about that shit.”

 

 

***

 

 

They don’t talk about it.

Ever.

 

 

***

 

 

In the end it’s Marius. It’s Marius fucking Pontmercy.

 

Montparnasse’s life is a joke.

 

Not because of that, necessarily, that’s just a general statement.

Actually, it’s pretty logical that it’s Marius because Marius for that matter is nowhere near a capital R Romantic like Jehan but he’s _romantic_. Loopy, joyous handwriting with a little heart over the i, the whole fuzz.

Jehan leaves Montparnasse and Courfeyrac to the afternoon shift before heading to their literature lecture. The hug in front of the others is swift and sweet but Jehan brushes their fingers along Montparnasse’s collar and leaves with a smile and a wave and Montparnasse can’t help but smile a little bit in return.

Because that’s how things are.

 

Ridiculous.

 

Marius catches the expression on his face and before Montparnasse can tell him not to, sighs happily. “Oh my god, you’re so perfect together. I mean, I didn’t really get it at first but now, I’m just so happy for you, you’re such a great couple, honestly.”

Something in Montparnasse’s chest tightens but he ignores it and manages a glare that at least _feels_ pretty convincing.

“Not a couple, Marlon,” he grumbles. Courfeyrac rolls his eyes and Montparnasse changes the direction of the glare for a moment.

Marius frowns. “You… really? But. I thought Jehan was your… I mean, I thought they are…,” he trails off a little helplessly looking even more confused than usually.

Brad, the really-not-at-all-anymore stoned college kid, looks up from their mechanical engineering textbook and clears their throat. “There are gender-neutral terms that can describe people in a romantic relationship when one or more don’t feel comfortable being called ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’. I mean, you can say ‘partner’ or you know, ‘significant other’, that’s pretty neutral, I guess? And if that feels a bit impersonal you can always go for something else. Like sweetheart? People in the forties did it all the time. I think that’s pretty cute.”

“Aw, that’s so beautiful. Thanks Brad,” Marius says then he turns back and opens his mouth to continue but stops at the sight of Montparnasse’s face. “Parnasse?”

Montparnasse frowns.

Because the thing is, he has always flattered himself of being quite perceptive, in general. And it’s not like he didn’t notice everyone’s amused jibes and not so subtle insinuations about the matter because of course he did. He never quite took them to heart though, at least not really, just adding it to the pile of things that made the relationship to Jehan a special one. Which wasn’t surprising in the least because he hadn’t expected the relationship to a person that was as special as Jehan to be anything _but_ special.

The thing is, hints and jibes are one thing. Montparnasse can roll his eyes at the jokes because they’re just that, jokes, it’s not like they mean anything by it.

But all Montparnasse can do at Marius’s genuine compliment and honest confusion is stare at him, stare at the genuine disappointment written all over his face, and think, yeah.

Me too.

Which is, in retrospect, really, really obvious.

 

“Right,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.

 

No one asks. Maybe because it already sounds like an answer.

 

“Excuse me,” Montparnasse says and then he walks straight through the kitchen, out of the back door and takes a couple of minutes to freak out about the fact that he _wants._

 

 

***

 

 

The next time they have a shift together is on Friday morning, and really, it’s cool.

Montparnasse can do cool, it’s fine. He had his short moment of panic which really wasn’t that much panic at all. More like an epiphany. Which had been a long time coming so really, it’s fine.

 

He’s about twenty minutes early.

It’s cool.

 

The door opens and usually he would think of about three different possibilities to stop those annoying bells from ringing every goddamn time but he really has better things to do right then, that is to say, stare at Jehan coming in.

And alright, maybe that’s not completely cool. It’ll have to do though.

Because the point is, he has a speech ready because he’s a dramatic fucker like that and also because he’s convinced he wouldn’t get a word out if he hadn’t.

“Morning,” Jehan says and then the whole thing flies out of the window when they take off their jacket and sit down on a chair at the counter.

“What?” is the only word Montparnasse gets out.

“Oh, I quit yesterday,” they shrug, nonchalantly, elegantly. “You know, I don’t think this coffee shop thing is exactly my cup of tea. I found an offer for a part-time job at this flower store that’s only doing arrangements for funerals, it’s amazing.”

“Oh,” Montparnasse says and prays it doesn’t sound disappointed.

Right, who the fuck is he kidding.

He clears his throat and musters up a smile.

“That’s great,” he says and knows that he means it. Because it does, it does sound amazing for Jehan so Montparnasse is going to suck it up and deal with it.

He clears his throat and waves vaguely into the direction of the coffee machine because he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be doing with his hands. Or in general. “So, do you want me to make you something then?”

Jehan sighs but there’s a smile playing around the corner of their mouth. “Parnasse?”

“What?”

 

Instead of an answer Jehan leans over the counter and without any hesitation grabs Montparnasse’s collar with both hands and presses their mouths together.

 

It’s a kiss that steals his breath. Not the kind of breathlessness that is horrible but the kind that makes sore hearts beat faster and warmth wash away everything else. Jehan’s lips are warm against his, moving slow and sweet and Montparnasse kisses back because he wants to taste Jehan’s smile on his tongue.

The world is beautiful.

The world is beautiful and it hates him because someone chooses that exact moment to pointedly clear their throat. It sounds half like a laugh.

Jehan leans back with a smile, a small, happy one, simple and beautiful and Montparnasse only manages to drag his eyes away when it turns just a little bit teasing because he might, probably, maybe be blushing just a little bit.

Bahorel is grinning broadly at them Grantaire and Courfeyrac who seem to have arrived somewhere along the line stand unmoving it the open door of the coffee shop.

Courfeyrac looks like he’s close to tears. Grantaire looks smug.

 

No.

 

Grantaire clears his throat and, with a perfect, authentic imitation of Montparnasse, drawls, “Now, that is just _disgusting._ ”

It’s silent for a moment.

Then Jehan starts giggling. Montparnasse groans and buries his smile in their hair. 

 

 

***

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading and your wonderful shared enthusiasm for my perfect, grumpy criminal child Montparnasse and, as always, you're welcome to say hi and talk to me about more beautiful french people on [tumblr](http://vintage-jehan.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Life and Times of a Sullen Coffee Shop Employee (Series)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988976) by [Sunfreckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle)




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